was a clue obtained. The merit of having found at last the original coffin coated with tar, and the authentic remains of Michelangelo's dearest friend, belongs to Dr. Bruto Amante, the well-known biographer of Giulia Conzaga. From his memoir, "La Tomba di Vittoria Colonna," published by Zanichelli at Bologna in 1896, I gather the following remarkable particulars: Starting with the consideration that Vittoria expresses more than once in her

poems

The sacristy of the church of San Domenico Maggiore, at Naples, where the remains of Vittoria Colonna were found

the wish to be reunited to her beloved husband in their last resting-place, that the husband had been buried in the church of San Domenico Maggiore in the city of Naples, and that Naples was at the time of her death a much safer place from the grip of the Inquisition than Rome or Marino or Paliano, Dr. Amante began his investigations in the sacristy of the above-mentioned church, which contains not less than forty-five coffins of illustrious members of the

Neapolitan aristocracy, mostly from the house of Aragona. These coffins are located all round the walls, above the screens and wardrobes containing the sacred vessels and induments, in a sort of gallery or balcony, of which the tops of the wardrobes form the floor. Here he discovered, much to his surprise, not one but two coffins inscribed with the name of the hero of the battle of Pavia. The upper of the two, very large, with a sword and a pennant nailed on the lid, bears the following epitaph: (Here lies) "Ferdinand d'Avalos of Aquino, Marquess of Pescara." The lower and smaller one shows likewise the words, painted in black on a white scroll: "Francis Ferdinand d'Avalos of Aquino, Marquess of Pescara, vicar-general in Italy of His Majesty the Emperor, died in the year of our Lord one thousand five hundred and twenty-five."

Dr. Amante was therefore confronted with two coffins belonging to the same individual, as proved by the sword and the pennant nailed on the first, the insignia of a general, and by the precise date 1525 inscribed on the other. There was only one way to solve the riddle, viz., to examine the contents of each. Having obtained leave from the archbishop, as well as from the minister of public instruction, and secured the help of several men of science, he opened first the lower and smaller of the two. There were the remains of an individual of the male sex, of middle size and age, with traces of dark hair on the skull. Such characteristics led them to believe that the legend of the scroll spoke the truth, and that the coffin really contained the remains of Vittoria's husband, who had died in 1525. Inside the upper coffin they found the long-lost bier, coated with tar, with the skeleton of an individual of the female sex, about fifty years of age. The skeleton was still partially enveloped in a shroud of coarse linen, also besmeared

with tar. A closer analysis of the contents revealed the fact that the woman had been laid to rest dressed in a shirt of the finest linen, with a lace collar fastened round the throat by three bands or lacings. The sleeves also were fringed with lace. There were traces of other articles of underwear which I find rather too technical to be described in a paper of this kind. The hair, unmistakably blonde, was covered by a silk hood. These particulars (and many others of lesser value) were registered in a document, dated December 9, 1894, and signed by Angelo Zuccarelli, professor of anthropology in the University of Naples; by Father Maiella, rector of San Domenico; by Signor di Maio, representative of the minister of public instruction; by Dr. Amante, the discoverer, and by other witnesses of repute.

I must acknowledge that the vague tradition of the transfer of Vittoria's body from Rome to Naples, and of her interment in one of the churches of that city, had never died out among the descendants of Ascanio Colonna; and the late Prince Don Giovanni Andrea used to repeat over and over again, while Visconti and I were engaged in the fruitless search of 1887 at Sant' Anna de Funari, that we were wasting our time, because he knew the body of his illustrious ancestor was to be found in Naples.

After the interesting story I have related, the reader will probably suppose that the discovery of Vittoria's grave was welcomed with a thrill of enthusiasm from one extremity to the other of the Peninsula; that the Italian literary and historical societies celebrated the event in a manner befitting its importance; and that a monument to her, or maybe to both heroes of my story, must have been raised in the capital of modern Italy, and, more precisely, in that Piazza Arenula which occupies the site of the church and convent of Sant' Anna, demolished in 1887. None of these things

have come to pass. The coffins of the most cultured lady and of the most valiant knight of the sixteenth century still lie half forgotten in the sacristy of San Domenico Maggiore, and the site of the expected monument in the Piazza Arenula has been usurped by the statue of a play writer, whose name can hardly be known beyond the walls of his native city. It is really surprising how modern Rome seems to have lost the recollection of the august men and women to whom she owes her greatness. If we except the memorials raised in honor of the founders of modern Italy, Victor Emmanuel, Cavour, Garibaldi, and Quintino Sella, - which are beautiful and worthy of the great names they bear, all the other public squares of the city have been given up to monuments of outsiders of modest fame, or of no fame at all. The last of these memorials had actually so little raison d'être that

tion and a public scandal

to avoid a hostile demonstrait was unveiled by stealth at two o'clock in the morning and in the presence only of half a dozen policemen.

CHAPTER VI

RAPHAEL

AFTER nearly four centuries of biographical research, and the publication of a stupendous number of volumes and pamphlets, many incidents in the life of Raphael still remain shrouded in mystery. They have been transmitted to us, through the lapse of time, more as popular legends than as facts established by contemporary evidence. We have not succeeded, for instance, in discovering the text of his will, although every archive has been searched and ransacked in quest of it, especially by Adam Rossi;1 and yet we know that Raphael, already in the grip of death, dictated such a document to his notary on or about the fourth day of April of the year 1520, because mention of its existence occurs in other legal papers of the time.

Another dubious side of Raphael's career is the one concerning his love entanglements, two of which have become especially conspicuous: his betrothal to Maria Bibbiena and his liaison with the handsome girl from the Trastevere known as the "daughter of the baker." There were probably others, notwithstanding the attempts made by certain biographers to depict him as an angel on earth, a forerunner of St. Louis Conzaga, worthy of being canonized on the altars of his Church. I have read with patience the sixteen heavy articles published on this subject by the journal "Il Raffaello" in 1879," but I cannot say they lift

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1 Compare Archivio Storico dell' Arte, vol. i, a. 1888, p. 3.

2 "Il Raffaello," Rivista d' Arte, published at Urbino by Elpidio Righi.